"True, brother, when we are both hopeful that, in spite of contending dogma, we may reach the heavenly gate in company; and it strikes me," he added with a smile, "that if we do the good saint may give us both a welcoming smile." "Brother," said Master Peasegood, leaning across the table, "if he had not one for you, I'd, I'd--bless me that I would--I'd take him to task about the fact." "Take him to task!" "Ay! Remind him of a bit of weakness of his when a certain cock did crow." Father Brisdone looked up with a half-amused, half-sorrowful expression. Then, with a sigh: "If the good saint had no welcome for my companion, and held the door open for me alone, I should feel that I had been mistaken all my life, join hands with my friend, and accompany him back." There was another hearty shake of the hand at this, and then the two friends sat and smoked in silence for a time. "Look here, brother," said Master Peasegood, suddenly; "we both love and like to direct sweet Mace, and leave another roaming about like a poor lost lamb. Now, why don't you take up Mistress Anne Beckley? She is young, and easily moulded." "Nay," was the reply; "I'd rather you tried your hand. I shall not seek to make her a proselyte to our cause." Master Peasegood sat gazing at his friend for a while, and then exclaimed-- "The news I gave you does not seem to have much effect." "What news?" "That thou art a papist emissary, and come to purchase powder for a new plot." "Heaven grant that such a bloody and atrocious crime be not again upon the way. It makes me shudder to think that men could have such ideas, and say that they are in the cause of the Church." Father Brisdone spoke excitedly, and his pale face flushed as he rose and paced the room. "Oh, brother, we live in bitter times when men can think a good and gracious God could smile down upon such crimes." "Ah," said Master Peasegood, re-lighting his little pipe, "you are a bad Catholic, and I no longer wonder that thou art left here by thy party." Father Brisdone looked back on him, and smiled. "The captain has sailed," said Master Peasegood. "Yes; he asked me to keep a protecting eye over our child." "He did, did he? Then I have a counter turn with him. Why did he not ask me to play that part?" "Because he knew thee of old, and that our child would be certain of thy protection." "Ah!" said Master Peasegood, with a sigh; "that girl is a great strain upon my mind--bless her!" "Ay, bless her!" said Father Brisdone, fervently. Then, after a pause, "I may have to flee one of these days, for persecutions are sometimes very bitter against such as I. If I do go suddenly, you will remember all my words." "Remember them! Yes. But where should you go?" "Throw myself upon the hands of Captain Carr, and trust to his generosity." "Yes, if at home; but he has sailed." "There are the woods and rocky hills."